


They Call it Puppy Love

by hikaie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, G-Rated for all intents and purposes, M/M, One mention of boy dongle, Pretty Silly!, Wolf!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott’s first reaction is to groan loudly and proclaim, “I was just getting used to this, there is no way I can get used to that!” and Erica is not even trying to contain her fits of laughter. Where Derek had previously stood in all his Alpha red-eyed glory was a very puzzled looking, hulking wolf.</p><p>[Non-descript Time Setting]</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Call it Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a giftfic for my LOVELY friend Logan over on tumblr. It's also posted there, so if you see it circulating or WHATEVER, that's why! First Teen Wolf fic, I am feeling a little lighthearted today so you get a little bit of fluff here.

                They’re all mid-training session when everyone gets a big shocker.

                Scott’s first reaction is to groan loudly and proclaim, “I was just getting used to this, there is no way I can get used to that!” and Erica is _not even **trying**_ to contain her fits of laughter. Where Derek had previously stood in all his Alpha red-eyed glory was a very puzzled looking, hulking wolf.

                Stiles can’t _accurately_ ascertain if the look is puzzlement, but there is certainly a non-animal look on that mug. _Ha_ , mug, he’s freaking hilarious. He starts snickering at his own inner joke and Derek, tail between his legs and looking for all accounts the sorriest, poorest creature in the world, lets out a rumbling growl. Erica stops laughing so hard she chokes and gasps for breath and Stiles bites his lip hard, but it doesn’t erase his smile.

                “He wants us to help him find out how to reverse this.” Boyd says conversationally from a few feet behind Stiles. He turns, and Boyd crinkles up his nose. “Pack mind goes to a whole new level in full wolf form, man.” There’s a pause and Boyd lets out a sigh. “Derek says you need to leave.” He gives a look to Stiles, and then over at Allison.

                “And miss _carnaval des animaux_? I think not.” Stiles chuckles and turns around to face the group. “I’m not going anywhere until I get to see what caused this.”

                “He says it could be his high blood lust.” Boyd rarely smiles, but Stiles can practically hear it in his voice. He swallows harshly as Derek growls low and rumbly once more. “Yeah, yeah okay.”

                Boyd takes them back in his truck, and Stiles has his hand smooshed under his ass and Allison is sandwiched between tiny old him and big old Boyd. Stiles gets dropped off at the creaking, gaping maw of Derek’s under-construction house and trundles off down the driveway, en route for Allison’s house. Nothing left now to but to wait.

 

                It’s several hours later and a mind numbing game of “kill the next mosquito that lands on me” x200 when Scott and Derek come walking up to the house, Derek decidedly non-human and Scott looking sheepish. “We tried everything.” He explains.

                Derek growls, like a dog growls when its owner pulls away its bone too fast.

                “And he’s still stuck like this?” Stiles scratches his hand across his lips, picking at dried drool. He may or may not have taken a nap. Or two.

                “Seems like it.” Snickering, Stiles stretches his arms above his head.

                “So what do we do with him?”

                “Well… we can’t just leave him here. We don’t know when he’ll turn back.”

                “Ah, right. So your house?”

                “What?! No! Don’t you think it would be kind of weird to bring a wolf home? And what if he changes back?! He’s better off at your place.”

                “What- why?!”

                “Because he’s like, totally at home there.” Scott shrugs, as if, for the millionth time, he has forgotten Stiles’ dad is the _fucking sheriff_.

                “Ughhh.” He drives the heel of his palm into his forehead and swipes his hand down his face. “Yeah fine, dad should be at work still.” He gives Scott his most trusted glare, the one he saves for Scott and Scott alone. It’s the ‘I do entirely too much for you and you totally owe me like, five of your souls.’ glare, and Scott has been deflecting it with his best puppy dog expression (i.e. his entire face) since they were ten. Stiles questions, not for the first time, his choice in friends.

                “Come on, Lassie.” He snaps his fingers at Derek as he stands from the steps, and nearly gets his hand bitten off for his trouble.

 

                Derek attempts to curl up on Stiles’ bed, but he is not losing this fight.

                “ _Hell no_ , dog breath, you want to sleep in the big boy bed then you have to take a bath first.” There is something truly terrifying about the fact that in wolf form, Derek’s look of ‘you’re a dumbass’ is literally no different than in human form.

                “I’m serious.” Stiles states, and for further measure, begins to pull, push, and prod Derek off of the bed. Derek has had a very long day, and if it weren’t for the fact that he kind of needs the place to stay as well, he would be chewing off Stiles’ hand right now. But the previous point stands.

                Then- _oh, ah, yes._ What has come over him? He has the sudden, nearly involuntary urge to kick his leg. He tilts his head back and bares his belly, left hind paw kicking jauntily and Stiles attempts to pull him off the bed in relentless tugs at his belly fur. Which turn into belly rubs.

                _Derek is never going to live this down_ , Stiles thinks as he gapes at the relaxed form of the wolf before him. He slowly strokes his downy belly, and, with a great one armed pull, gets him off the bed. Derek scrabbles on his paws, yelping indignantly. “Whoa, boy.” Stiles says with an edge of a laugh to his voice. He gets chased down the stairs and Derek chews out the seat of his favorite jeans.

 

                Derek powers through the indignity of a doggy bath with no grace and a _lot_ of pitched whining. Stiles comes out soaked and covers in soap, and Derek coats him in grime as he shakes out the last of it afterwards. He is not even going to attempt to dry him.

                “No laying in the bed.” Stiles commands as he steps out of his bedroom towards the bathroom. It is no surprise when, minutes later, he emerges feeling rejuvenated only to be met with a wet wolf sprawled luxuriously across his bedspread.

                But because Derek is breathing evenly and Stiles is very, _thoroughly_ done with this entire day, he picks at the comforter and crawls in under it, burrowing his head into the pillow and thinks glumly, _“God, please don’t let me wake up to a naked man in my bed.”_

                The morning comes with no naked man and instead a ruff of coarse, black fur shoved against Stiles nose. He groans uncomfortably and sneezes thrice, and Derek growls quietly, almost sleepily.

                Ew, he’s cuddling with Derek.

                Except not really, he’s cuddling with a big, warm, overgrown wolf, which has its head laid across his chest comfortably, like an old companionable lap dog. Stiles mumbles something like “You’re a bed hog.”, and he swears Derek snorts in response. He drifts back to sleep and when he wakes up the second time around, Derek is gone.

 

                (Derek trains the wolves two times as hard for the next week and he showers with new soap to get the stench of wolf and Stiles off him. The pack doesn’t laugh after two days of constant work outs and he’s fine, no more wolfing out, he thinks he can control this new aspect of being the alpha. Stiles looks at him strangely when he picks up Scott after school, and he tries not to think of how comfortable he was in the boy’s bed, even after he’d turned back. Stiles, of course, doesn’t know that, and really doesn’t need to for quite some time.)

                ((Stiles knows what morning wood feels like because you fucking idiot he’s a guy and he says so congenially to Derek after a training session, and Derek spits out the water he’d been gulping down, and Stiles gets to laugh about being able to shock him so utterly for the very first time.))

                (((And it’s definitely not the last.)))


End file.
